madimpossibledreamer (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
madimpossibledreamer) wrote2022-10-31 06:45 pm
madimpossibledreamer) wrote2022-10-31 06:45 pm
Entry tags:
a day i never planned
Happy Halloween if you celebrate it and I hope if you don't that you still had a great day!
Main Points:
Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Constantine|Hellblazer
Summary: The Ripper plans to make things right.
Word Count: 1172
Rating: Teen, with the warnings. because it wouldn't be constantine or hellblazer without the warnings.
warning: references to familial abuse, toxic masculinity (Tony Harris), homophobia, and general self-loathing
It’s not until the cuffs are on him that he even notices they’re there. The pretzels (straight, what a cosmic joke; he’d grabbed them on a laugh) were long since gone, and he’d gotten through the spell easy enough. He’d put his hands behind his head, thinking, and honestly the concussion might’ve caught up with him again, because he’d either nodded off or passed out again.
When he glances up, it’s the unsympathetic and frankly intimidating gaze of Giles that meets his. “Get out of the boy, Constantine,” he commands, sharp, and there’s a surprise for his cynicism. Here he’d been thinking Willow was the only one who’d care if he lived or died, and there only because she had a crush and would take it personally if she failed him.
“You care? I’m touched,” he responds, and then winces. The Watcher would take the accent as a confirmation of his worst fears. Why doesn’t he think before he speaks? Though to be fair it’s better than it could be. He could’ve made some thoughtless remark about the cuffs and kinks.
“Yes, I care, and if you don’t leave I will be forced to perform an exorcism,” Giles responds, firm and angry and well, there’s something juicy.
Perhaps this night will have been good for something after all. “Wait, magic? You? You’ve been keeping secrets, G-man. You’re more than just a comic nerd like the rest of us.” He tests the cuffs, but they’re magically reinforced, so he manages bugger all. And then, as an afterthought, he remembers, oh yeah, right. “Also it’s me. Just in case that didn’t make it clear. Think I’ve got a concussion.”
“You’re a con artist. You think I’ll believe you?” Any other day, really, that’d be a fair cop. Right now, though…
“No, really. It is Xander and Xander only, far as I’ve been able to tell, though if you don’t believe the results,” he nods at the circle, “…I’d actually welcome a confirmation. My vision’s all fuzzy at the edges.” He attempts to get into a less uncomfortable sitting position and just manages to slide down further.
To his surprise, Giles had come prepared. A chant he vaguely recognizes as an Egyptian healing spell from Constantine’s memories washes over him, warm and comforting, like a blanket placed by a friend.
Like Constantine had had too many of those, at the end.
The sudden loss of pain and adrenaline has him suddenly ready to fall asleep. “This is nice,” he states wistfully, the man who’s enjoying a kindness he doesn’t deserve.
“Willow was worried,” the librarian explains, busying himself around the edges as the now-blond leans his head back, closing his eyes.
“’Course she was. She’s better than I deserve, really.” At this point, that might be dangerous for her, but he’s nothing if not selfish.
“Is she?” the Watcher asks mildly.
He nods, yawning. “Absolutely. You’ve noticed, with the way you’ve had a go at me.”
Giles starts to apologize and he cracks open an eye, smiling at him. “It’s all deserved, don’t worry.” And wait, speaking of worry, the concern shoots through him, instantly replacing the content exhaustion. “Wait, did Willow go to my house?”
“I believe she did. She assured me you weren’t there. Is there something wrong with that?” He’s too calm, Xander decides. He must not know. Which is good; it means Willow’s safe.
“Not really,” he states carelessly.
Only Giles is paying attention, now. This isn’t like before, where he’d flown under the radar. “Xander?”
He’s not just going to get on with it, is he? Xander pries open his eyelids, meeting the librarian’s gaze with a serious stare. “You can’t just fix it like with that little spell, and while I might not be Constantine I still might be cursed. Not a brilliant idea to get too close,” he warns, and, oh, hell, does this mean anything that happens to them all in the future is his fault? Or is that just the price of living on a Hellmouth?
To his surprise, the Watcher is smiling. Gentle and kind. “I believe that’s the sort of price an adult is supposed to pay in order to protect the children around them.”
Xander shivers, pulling his still-handcuffed hands closer to him in the late-night cold. “We both know it doesn’t usually go the way it should, yeah? Reality’s a harsh mistress.”
“All the more reason we should try to make a difference where we can,” the librarian argues, pulling an actual blanket from his bag and tucking Xander in.
The last time he’d felt that was the last sleepover he’d had with Jesse. The McNallys were a close bunch, treated him and Willow like one of their own. It’s one of the main reasons he hadn’t gone back, not after he’d killed what was left of Jesse. He couldn’t face them or their kindness, especially not when he so clearly didn’t deserve it. It’s still such a strange sensation.
He has no words, only tears building at the edge of his eyes, but if he settles back, rests his head against the crumbling wall, then they won’t fall. It’s no real kind of victory (two voices sneering at him about how real men, real blokes, don’t cry, an ugly harmony if he’s ever heard one), but he’ll take it all the same.
It’s not much, really. Just the reason he still believes in humanity despite all the shite he’s seen. Despite how much of a rotten little bastard he’s been. Magic like that makes it all worth it.
So he relaxes into the blanket and the knowledge a bloke who didn’t really like him and still didn’t wish him ill was willing to hear him out. In the strangely comforting lullaby of a magic spell and the victory of not having screwed it up once in his life. It’s a rare enough thing he’ll take it.
“You’re not Constantine,” Giles confirms as Xander drifts. “Though I don’t think I’d go as far as to say you’re unchanged by the spell, and for that I apologize.” He takes off the handcuffs to a tired “cheers” from Xander.
“What, are you Ethan’s keeper now, is that it?” he manages, barely awake.
“No, but we both needed one,” the man admits, ashamed.
Awkwardly, Xander pats his forearm. It’s not much in the way of comfort, but it’s all he can muster at the moment. He’s spent. “I don’t want to go back, but I don’t exactly want to sleep in an abandoned building, either,” he mumbles. He’s heard promises about showing vulnerability being safe before, but this one he vaguely believes, and his trust isn’t broken.
“I believe that could be arranged,” Giles promises, adding, “…Willow’s parents don’t appear to be home, and she was extremely worried about your safety.” Usually, he wouldn’t want to burden her, but he’s too tired to argue or really care, especially when the librarian gathers him up, blanket and all. He’s stronger than he looks, is that Watcher.
Main Points:
Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Constantine|Hellblazer
Summary: The Ripper plans to make things right.
Word Count: 1172
Rating: Teen, with the warnings. because it wouldn't be constantine or hellblazer without the warnings.
warning: references to familial abuse, toxic masculinity (Tony Harris), homophobia, and general self-loathing
It’s not until the cuffs are on him that he even notices they’re there. The pretzels (straight, what a cosmic joke; he’d grabbed them on a laugh) were long since gone, and he’d gotten through the spell easy enough. He’d put his hands behind his head, thinking, and honestly the concussion might’ve caught up with him again, because he’d either nodded off or passed out again.
When he glances up, it’s the unsympathetic and frankly intimidating gaze of Giles that meets his. “Get out of the boy, Constantine,” he commands, sharp, and there’s a surprise for his cynicism. Here he’d been thinking Willow was the only one who’d care if he lived or died, and there only because she had a crush and would take it personally if she failed him.
“You care? I’m touched,” he responds, and then winces. The Watcher would take the accent as a confirmation of his worst fears. Why doesn’t he think before he speaks? Though to be fair it’s better than it could be. He could’ve made some thoughtless remark about the cuffs and kinks.
“Yes, I care, and if you don’t leave I will be forced to perform an exorcism,” Giles responds, firm and angry and well, there’s something juicy.
Perhaps this night will have been good for something after all. “Wait, magic? You? You’ve been keeping secrets, G-man. You’re more than just a comic nerd like the rest of us.” He tests the cuffs, but they’re magically reinforced, so he manages bugger all. And then, as an afterthought, he remembers, oh yeah, right. “Also it’s me. Just in case that didn’t make it clear. Think I’ve got a concussion.”
“You’re a con artist. You think I’ll believe you?” Any other day, really, that’d be a fair cop. Right now, though…
“No, really. It is Xander and Xander only, far as I’ve been able to tell, though if you don’t believe the results,” he nods at the circle, “…I’d actually welcome a confirmation. My vision’s all fuzzy at the edges.” He attempts to get into a less uncomfortable sitting position and just manages to slide down further.
To his surprise, Giles had come prepared. A chant he vaguely recognizes as an Egyptian healing spell from Constantine’s memories washes over him, warm and comforting, like a blanket placed by a friend.
Like Constantine had had too many of those, at the end.
The sudden loss of pain and adrenaline has him suddenly ready to fall asleep. “This is nice,” he states wistfully, the man who’s enjoying a kindness he doesn’t deserve.
“Willow was worried,” the librarian explains, busying himself around the edges as the now-blond leans his head back, closing his eyes.
“’Course she was. She’s better than I deserve, really.” At this point, that might be dangerous for her, but he’s nothing if not selfish.
“Is she?” the Watcher asks mildly.
He nods, yawning. “Absolutely. You’ve noticed, with the way you’ve had a go at me.”
Giles starts to apologize and he cracks open an eye, smiling at him. “It’s all deserved, don’t worry.” And wait, speaking of worry, the concern shoots through him, instantly replacing the content exhaustion. “Wait, did Willow go to my house?”
“I believe she did. She assured me you weren’t there. Is there something wrong with that?” He’s too calm, Xander decides. He must not know. Which is good; it means Willow’s safe.
“Not really,” he states carelessly.
Only Giles is paying attention, now. This isn’t like before, where he’d flown under the radar. “Xander?”
He’s not just going to get on with it, is he? Xander pries open his eyelids, meeting the librarian’s gaze with a serious stare. “You can’t just fix it like with that little spell, and while I might not be Constantine I still might be cursed. Not a brilliant idea to get too close,” he warns, and, oh, hell, does this mean anything that happens to them all in the future is his fault? Or is that just the price of living on a Hellmouth?
To his surprise, the Watcher is smiling. Gentle and kind. “I believe that’s the sort of price an adult is supposed to pay in order to protect the children around them.”
Xander shivers, pulling his still-handcuffed hands closer to him in the late-night cold. “We both know it doesn’t usually go the way it should, yeah? Reality’s a harsh mistress.”
“All the more reason we should try to make a difference where we can,” the librarian argues, pulling an actual blanket from his bag and tucking Xander in.
The last time he’d felt that was the last sleepover he’d had with Jesse. The McNallys were a close bunch, treated him and Willow like one of their own. It’s one of the main reasons he hadn’t gone back, not after he’d killed what was left of Jesse. He couldn’t face them or their kindness, especially not when he so clearly didn’t deserve it. It’s still such a strange sensation.
He has no words, only tears building at the edge of his eyes, but if he settles back, rests his head against the crumbling wall, then they won’t fall. It’s no real kind of victory (two voices sneering at him about how real men, real blokes, don’t cry, an ugly harmony if he’s ever heard one), but he’ll take it all the same.
It’s not much, really. Just the reason he still believes in humanity despite all the shite he’s seen. Despite how much of a rotten little bastard he’s been. Magic like that makes it all worth it.
So he relaxes into the blanket and the knowledge a bloke who didn’t really like him and still didn’t wish him ill was willing to hear him out. In the strangely comforting lullaby of a magic spell and the victory of not having screwed it up once in his life. It’s a rare enough thing he’ll take it.
“You’re not Constantine,” Giles confirms as Xander drifts. “Though I don’t think I’d go as far as to say you’re unchanged by the spell, and for that I apologize.” He takes off the handcuffs to a tired “cheers” from Xander.
“What, are you Ethan’s keeper now, is that it?” he manages, barely awake.
“No, but we both needed one,” the man admits, ashamed.
Awkwardly, Xander pats his forearm. It’s not much in the way of comfort, but it’s all he can muster at the moment. He’s spent. “I don’t want to go back, but I don’t exactly want to sleep in an abandoned building, either,” he mumbles. He’s heard promises about showing vulnerability being safe before, but this one he vaguely believes, and his trust isn’t broken.
“I believe that could be arranged,” Giles promises, adding, “…Willow’s parents don’t appear to be home, and she was extremely worried about your safety.” Usually, he wouldn’t want to burden her, but he’s too tired to argue or really care, especially when the librarian gathers him up, blanket and all. He’s stronger than he looks, is that Watcher.